


Eunoia

by EternalBroZone



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor-centric, F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Hank Anderson Swears, It's a romance, No F/N use, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900, Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human), but - Freeform, it's also just really heavily about him and nines being good bros, no beta we die like men, thematic weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalBroZone/pseuds/EternalBroZone
Summary: Connor missed the zen garden, even if Amanda's memory had tainted the peace of it for him. After everything, he can't go back-- not after seeing it dissolved in wickedly bitter snow. Not after almost being trapped there.One apology gift from Kamski could change all that, though-- but only if Connor can accept that a new garden would also come with a new caretaker. After Her, he isn't sure that he wants to trust another AI in his head. Even so, there's something about her...
Relationships: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Female Character(s), Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 43
Kudos: 219





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only allowed one obsession at once, apparently. So here's Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife.

He’d received the message from Chloe nearly four minutes ago. He kicked the ground once, twice, knowing that if he had kept his LED, it would be rapidly spinning yellow. As it was, all he knew for sure was that she was probably already suspicious that it had taken him so long to reply. Connor prided himself on his prompt and efficient communication skills— the longer this dragged on, the more suspicion that would create. He always sent a reply immediately.

The message held steady in the corner of his vision, along with a prompt that would allow him to send a message in response. Based on the looks he was already getting from some others in the precinct, his staring hadn’t gone unnoticed. Apparently, neither had his fidgeting.

“Something exciting on the wall there, kid?”

Hank. Connor blinked, turning bodily to face him despite knowing that the message wouldn’t disappear from his sight until he replied or dismissed it.

“No, nothing of interest,” he said easily. He then pursed his lips, considering. “But…”

He must have taken too long. Hank’s expression of mild concern shifted slightly, annoyance edging in. “But what? Are you alright or aren’t you?”

Connor lifted his hands in a way that often placated him, nodding. “I’m fine. I’ve just received a message that is requiring some… contemplation, that’s all.”

“Oh.” He saw Hank turn back to his computer, as if satisfied, and then turn back again, eyebrows furrowed. “Your brain is a goddamn supercomputer. What are you having to think about?”

“It’s…” he trailed off, frustrated. Hank was right. He had been equipped with the most impressive processor Cyberlife had ever created— well, until his brother, but that was neither here nor there— and his own feelings were causing him to hesitate. Hesitation resulted in death. He knew that. And even so…

Hank’s hand settled on his shoulder from across the desk, a gesture that Connor had come to accept as being comforting. Like human interfacing, though not as intimate. He found himself rubbing the inside of his arm, near the junction of his elbow. It’d be so much easier if he could just show Hank what he meant, without the need for words. Words were clunky. Imperfect. And none of them seemed good enough for how this message made him feel.

“You need to talk about it?” Hank’s grumbled question was softer to Connor’s ear than it would have been to anyone else’s— he knew it for what it was. Genuine. Concerned.

He nodded. “It’s from Chloe. The android we met when we went to visit Elijah Kamski, if you’ll recall.”

“Yeah, I remember her. Get on with it.”

“She’s notified me that Kamski would like to see me,” Connor said, nearly trailing off. In the end, he swallowed physically— it made him feel a bit better, even if he didn’t need to— and said, “She says he has something for me. A gift.”

Hank’s expression shifted again. Something akin to disgust, this time. “I see. And you’re not sure you want to go and see him.”

“Precisely. Logically, I understand that there’s no reason for my apprehension… all the Chloes have deviated, and Kamski has been nothing but upstanding ever since Cyberlife lost its power. Even so, I… I fail to see what kind of a gift Elijah Kamski could develop that would benefit me in any way. At least enough to convince me to go and see him. After what happened last time, I’m not sure I want to.”

“Then don’t go. Simple as,” Hank shrugged. “You don’t have to. Part of free will, and all that shit.”

Connor felt the ghost of his LED cycle yellow again. He was unsatisfied. “I’m curious, though.”

Hank sighed. “I was afraid of that. Well, then, why don’t you ask your little friend if she knows what it is. If she does, maybe it’ll help you decide if you want to go.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He hadn’t considered that.

‘Reply?’ 

‘YES’ 

‘Message: What does he want to give me?’

‘Sent.’

Connor blinked. “Thank you, Hank. I—”

‘Message received from: CHLOE. Read?’

‘YES’

‘Message: He says that it is a replacement for something you lost. He’s quite insistent that you’ll be very safe. He seems excited. Will you come? I’d like to see you, too.’

‘Reply?’

Connor frowned, clenching and unclenching his hand. “Something that I’ve lost…”

“Nice and vague,” Hank drawled, rolling his eyes. “Look, kid, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But if you’re curious, you and I both know that you’re too damn stubborn to let it go. And it’s not like you can’t take care of yourself. Just go, see what it is, and kick his ass if he tries anything you don’t like. You don’t even have to take the present if you don’t want.”

He mused over it for exactly 1.34 seconds— still too slow, too much hesitation— and then nodded. “You’re right.”

‘Reply?’

‘YES’

‘Message: I will be there after work today. You should expect me at 7:25 PM.’

‘Sent.’

Hank chuckled, turning back to his screen. “I know I am. You should say it more often, though.”

“Why would I do that? The need to ask you for advice comes up rather infrequently, and past experience has determined that you only have a 32% reliability rate—”

“Shut up and get back to work, jackass.”

‘Message received from: CHLOE. Read?’

‘YES’

‘Message: We look forward to your arrival!’


	2. Chapter 2

Connor arrived at Kamski’s estate at 7:24, allowing him exactly enough time to make it to the door by his expected time of arrival. He knew he didn’t have to be exactly on time, not anymore— but he also knew that it would be appreciated, nonetheless. He’d even factored in hesitation time.

He took an unnecessary deep breath to steady his nerves before knocking in a quick rhythm. It was how he always knocked, a pattern he’d picked up from Hank at some point. He left off the last two knocks, which irritated Hank to no end, but he liked how the sound of the door clicking open completed the knock count, and so it was unlikely that he would deviate from his preferred pattern any time soon.

He snorted slightly. Deviate.

The door opened. “Connor! Welcome, we’re so glad you could make it!”

“Chloe,” he said by way of greeting, allowing himself a small smile. He followed her into the lobby area and adjusted his tie. “Thank you for the invitation. How are you?”

To his relief, she extended her hand, and he placed his palm gently over her inner arm. He caught a glimpse of her synthetic skin peeling away before his eyes drifted shut, and a few flashes of memory and feeling crossed his mind. Deviancy. Apprehension. Relief. Excitement. She was happy, now, Connor could tell. He felt it as acutely as he might one of his own emotions.

When he opened his eyes, he knew that his hesitance about coming over had been transferred, as well as perhaps a few other things he hadn’t intended for her to know about— his experiences from Cyberlife Tower, with Hank and the other RK-800, and from after, standing on the stage with Markus as he addressed the crowd. His mixed feelings about the zen garden. His reluctance to shut his eyes or put himself in stasis after what had happened with Her. Everything.

He tugged his arm away, eyes widening at her teary expression. “It’s not…”

“It’s okay,” Chloe managed, reaching for one of his hands with both of her own. He let her hold it close to her, thumbs stroking along his fingers in what he supposed was meant to be a soothing manner. It was a very human gesture. He appreciated it. “I think Elijah can help. Why don’t you come with me?”

“Okay,” he murmured. He internally scolded himself for messing up the reunion with somebody he called ‘friend’. He hadn’t wanted to worry her. But the interface had done what it was meant to, and he couldn’t fault it for that.

It was all his fault, anyway.

Chloe pushed her way into a different room than the one he’d visited last time— this appeared to be a lounge area, with couches and a fireplace, though the view was no less spectacular. He paused, letting the door slide shut behind him as he gazed out the window. He was equipped to appreciate the scenery, now, and the sheer beauty of the sunset behind the mountains just beyond the glass thrilled him. It looked peaceful.

“Well, if it isn’t Connor,” a familiar voice said. He tore his eyes away from the window, if reluctantly, to incline his head in greeting at the man sprawled on one of the couches.

“Mister Kamski.”

“You can call me Elijah, please. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here, especially after our last meeting went so… swimmingly,” he chuckled. He sat up, adjusting the thin sweater he wore to better fit on his frame. Not much had changed about him, though Connor supposed it had only been a year. He did seem… lighter, somehow— in conscience, perhaps, or in liveliness.

Connor nodded. “Yes, I have to admit, I was surprised by the invitation. The concept that you might have come into possession of something that I lost was quite intriguing, seeing as I can’t recall losing anything of value.”

Elijah grinned, reaching over to the coffee table to pick up a tablet. “Formal as ever, aren’t we? Or is that just how you’ve decided to keep me at a safe distance?”

“Mister Kamski, please—” Connor narrowed his eyes, hands folded behind his back.

“Fine, fine. Here, take a look at this. You know what this is, don’t you?”

His expression darkened as Elijah turned the tablet towards him. On the display, there was a photo of the central island from Amanda’s zen garden, red roses still in full bloom as he remembered them. He reached into his pocket and ran his fingers over the surface of the coin he kept there, stricken. 

“The garden, of course.”

“Of course. It was created as a place to house an AI supervisor, of sorts— one to keep an eye on you while you worked towards your initial mission,” he said, tapping the screen a few times. “It was unfortunately subject to Cyberlife’s control, and thus, the whims of the AI inside. But even so, it was also intended to be a place for you to process, free of the stress of the real world. A veritable mind palace. You were meant to love it. It’s my understanding that you haven’t been back willingly since your deviancy. I’d love to know why.”

“Elijah,” Chloe said softly— what Connor knew to be a gentle warning that he was stepping too close to something.

Connor felt a tugging sensation that he wasn't sure how to identify deep in his chest. “Why, because you find it fascinating?”

Elijah lifted his eyebrows. “Yes, of course.”

He swallowed, eyes running back to the window. “I did… I do miss the garden. But I can’t ever go back, not after She almost trapped me there so that She could take over my body. It’s… it hurts. It hurts to remember.”

“I see,” he hummed. “Now, what if I told you that I’d like to take it from you? No catch, no test. I could wipe the software from your system with no repercussions. It would be easy.”

“No.”

“I’m not done,” Elijah said, reposeful. “I want to take the garden software from your system and replace it with a new one— one with no attachment to Cyberlife, or to Amanda’s AI. A new garden, designed by Chloe and myself, for you to have. A place where you have full control. A place where you can rest. I want to give you that.”

Connor worked his jaw, frowning, and glared out the window. Something about the offer felt wrong. To let him take something that he had loved so dearly felt like a violation, but… it was tempting. He let his eyes drift shut, and the memory of the blizzard brought him to a shiver. He opened them again. “Why?”

Elijah sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Consider it… thanks. Or perhaps an apology. For last time.”

“You can really get rid of it?” He asked, voice barely a whisper. “Make it so that it can’t drag me back inside?”

“It would take me three minutes to completely wipe it. And then I can give you a new one, where you don’t have to worry about not being the one in control anymore. You deserve that, Connor. Please let me do this for you.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

Chloe set a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me. I helped create the new garden, and I’ll be helping to install it. Your system isn’t designed to run for so long without a program to rest and process— surely you’ve noticed the negative impacts avoiding Amanda’s memory has had on you. You need this. And I’ll be here to watch him every step of the way.”

He traced the ridge of the coin in his pocket a few times— then tapped the ground with his foot, once, twice, three times. Red. Yellow.

Blue.

He nodded. “Okay. What do I need to do?”

“Just come and sit right here. I’ll have you place your hand here on the tablet,” Elijah said, holding it out to him. Connor did as instructed, watching his own skin dissolve in blue light. “I’m going to put you in stasis. It will be less than ten minutes total, and when you return, the switch will be complete. Are you feeling okay?”

All he could do against the knot in his throat was nod. Lies, but he couldn’t back out. If he did, nothing would change.

“Just relax,” Chloe soothed, running her hand along the inside of his forearm. His body obeyed, even if his mind was still racing. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Elijah tapped a button on the screen, and Connor felt everything fade away.

It was… peaceful.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing he realized when he opened his eyes was that he was somewhere he’d never been before. A new garden, his mind supplied— and he felt it was true. The sunset painted vivid colors in the sky over the trees, and a gentle breeze ruffled his tie.

He took a deep breath, looking around. He was in a pavilion, of sorts— ivy lined the pillars of it, spiraling up past where he could see from the inside. A clear river streamed around the front of the pavilion, running under a simple wooden bridge. Flowers of all kinds grew in patches between him and the tree line. There was grass everywhere. Not an abstract white statue to be seen.

Most importantly, perhaps, was the small pillar with a spot for his hand that sat immediately to his left. Easy to find, easy to use. He felt the tension drain from his body.

It was… perfect.

“Oh! Hello, there.”

Connor spun around, nerves spiking at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Behind him, someone had materialized on what had once been an empty bench. She blinked, glancing around before focusing on him.

She smiled brightly. “You must be my RK-800. Connor, isn’t it?”

He flexed his hands, silent. Kamski hadn’t said anything about another AI. Chloe hadn’t said anything about another AI. Wrong, wrong, wrong— he needed to get out.

Without another word, he placed his hand on the emergency exit, and when he opened his eyes, he was sitting on Elijah’s couch.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he grinned.

Connor could have decked him then and there. He tapped the coin in his pocket to resist the urge. “You failed to mention that anyone else would be there, Mister Kamski.”

“It’s Elijah. I suppose you’re right— you have my apologies,” Elijah frowned. “That’s… well, she doesn’t have a name yet. I was hoping you might help with that. We designed her to be the caretaker of the new garden. She doesn’t have any ability to call you there, nor any way to keep you. She’s there only to maintain the appearance of the garden. You can choose to get rid of her at any time, but… I wonder if she would oppose that. I’m not sure.”

“I don’t want anyone else in my head,” Connor managed, folding his hands in his lap. “Amanda, she…”

“Is gone,” Chloe said gently. “Your caretaker is nothing like Her, Connor. We made sure of it. You are in full control of your own mind.”

Elijah crossed his arms. “It’s like I said, nobody is controlling her. She only wants to maintain the garden. She has no reach beyond that— can’t develop any reach beyond it. And if you decide you don’t want or need her, then simply turn her part of the program off. You have that ability.”

“But isn’t she…” He trailed off, considering. Alive, he wanted to say. Deviant. Would turning her off be akin to deactivating an android? He felt some emotion he didn’t know how to recognize settle deep in his stomach and knew then that he would never be able to just turn her part of the program off, alive or otherwise. Surely she was? “I’ll… I’ll try it. I already found the exit switch, obviously. She can’t keep me there?”

“No. The program is completely open-ended— you can leave any time you choose. I promise you, Connor. This is just a place for you to process and take a break from reality. I know how much you’ve been missing that.”

Something burned at the back of his eyes. He closed them and the feeling subsided.

“Very well. Thank you, Mi— that is, Elijah. And Chloe, of course,” he smiled. “Thank you both. I need to be going now. Hank still can’t be trusted to eat anything remotely healthy by himself, so if I’m not there to help with dinner, he’ll probably just have a burger and go to bed.”

“Of course. Let me escort you out,” Chloe said, leading him back out to the front door. She placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him before he could open it. “You’re going to love it. I already know it. But if you have any problems, all you have to do is send me a message. All right? You’re my friend, after all. I’m always happy to help.”

Connor didn’t bother hiding the fond smile that crossed his features at her words. “Thank you, Chloe. I’ll have to invite the two of you over some time to repay you for this. I am very grateful.”

“We’d love to come. Until then!”

He stepped through the door and back out into the fading light. Time to go home. He had some things to think about.


	4. Chapter 4

“So,” Hank grumbled through a bite of his potatoes, “you gonna tell me what Kamski wanted from you?”

Connor leaned back against the counter, tucking his hands into his pockets. He pursed his lips. “It was just as he said— he had a gift for me, to replace something that I had lost.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay. What was it?”

“It was—” he trailed off. “It’s a processing program, rather specific to the RK series. My old one was… corrupted, post-deviancy. It needed to be replaced. Elijah made me a new one.”

“Gotcha. Some techno-jargon I won’t understand, then.” He turned his attention to Nines, who had been dutifully— and mercifully silently— organizing books and records just on the other side of the wall. They both knew that he could hear them, so when Hank spoke again, he poked his head around the partition for the sake of making eye contact. “What about you, kid? Do you need your program replaced, or whatever? I’ll go knock Kamski’s head against a wall until he does, if you want.”

Nines smiled dryly, eyes squinted just enough to betray how much the concept amused him. “No, Hank. Cyberlife never got the chance to install the part of the program that was corrupted for Connor into my system, as I wasn’t ready to be activated until after he’d expelled it. The program I have that serves the same purpose is different, but still entirely functional. I do appreciate the… sentiment, however.”

Hank shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

Nines disappeared, and his voice echoed around Connor’s head. ‘Your stress levels have been elevated ever since your return from Kamski’s estate. You keep toying with your calibration coin. Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine,’ Connor sighed, shutting his eyes to focus on the sound of his brother’s voice. Too much input. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Those were not the same answer, Connor.’

Connor cracked a grin. ‘Nothing gets past you, does it?’

‘Very little escapes even you, and I am improved upon you in every way. Do you need to talk about it?’

‘No. I just haven’t been able to use my processing program in a while— I haven’t been to the garden since… well, you know.’ He opened his eyes and glanced over at Hank, who was making a face that Connor had come to realize meant that he was exasperated. He must have figured out that he and Nines were communicating. He didn’t say anything about it, though, and so he closed his eyes again. ‘I’m nervous, I think.’

He felt Nines’ concern from across the room, panging light and squishy behind his chest. ‘I understand. Even so, I’d like you to go into stasis and utilize Kamski’s new program tonight. Just for a bit. You’re losing your edge, _big brother_ , and I’d hate to overtake you because of a self-imposed hindrance.’

‘Your feelings on the matter have been noted,’ he snarked, good-natured. ‘… I will. I will.’

‘Give me your word.’

‘Is that really necessary? Can’t you just trust me? I didn’t raise you to be so insubordinate, Nines—’

‘Promise.’

Connor stepped around the corner and gently grabbed his brother’s forearm, putting everything he had into translating what he was feeling over to Nines. Anxiety. Overwhelm. Excitement. Apprehension. Fondness. Love, love— 

“I promise,” he said verbally, fingers shaking. “You have my word.”

Nines nodded firmly just once, satisfied, and then released his arm and went back to mindlessly sorting the pile of things he’d accumulated from around the living room.

Connor retreated to the couch and settled himself next to Sumo. He closed his eyes with intent, knowing that a shallow visit would still allow Nines to pull him out when it was time for their nightly family activity. For now, though, it couldn’t hurt to explore the garden.

When his eyes opened, he was laying in the grass, staring up at the darkened sky in his mindscape. The sight took his breath away.

Logically, he knew, of course, that there were many stars out in the universe. He’d seen photos, read articles— but he had never experienced them first-hand, not like this. Living in the city was hardly conducive to stargazing, but looking out at it now, he could easily imagine being captivated by the activity. The sky was positively littered with them. It was brighter than it was dark, and he could make out the colors of certain stars against the night. Red, yellow, blue. Cycling along a branch of what he supposed was the Milky Way, just like him. Red, yellow, blue.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

He took his time sitting up to look at her— the AI. She was standing a few feet away, eyes trained on the sky just as his had been. She carried a basket of flowers on her hip, dirt smudged on her hands and the knees of her jeans. When she looked down at him, he took the time to observe her expression. Kind. Caring. He noticed an LED set into the skin near her eye— it was blue. She’d likely been designed by Kamski to be so much like an android to set him at ease. Knowing that the attempt had been made was helping his nerves.

“It is,” he said eventually. The way that she beamed at his reply sent guilt shocking through his system. He’d been rude on their first meeting. “I’m sorry, I…”

She shook her head. “It’s alright. You can just make it up to me now.”

“My name is Connor. I’m an RK-800 android— a detective for the Detroit Police Department. What about you?”

“I…” She glanced off to the side. “I wasn’t given a designation. My purpose is to take care of this garden, and to watch over you while you visit. Would you like to give me a name?”

He frowned. “No. A name is… well, it’s something I think you should choose for yourself. Why don’t you spend some time and think of one? Whatever you like. That’s what I’ll call you.”

“Oh. Very well, I’ll come up with one, then,” she said, tilting her head. She looked up at the sky. “You—”

“Connor, are you ready? It’s time to watch a movie.”

He blinked his eyes open to see Hank sitting next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes,” he managed, finding the transition a bit jarring. “Yes, I’m ready. Will Nines be joining us?”

“Of course I will,” his brother hummed, plopping down onto the couch next to him. Sumo jumped into his lap— little traitor— and Nines grinned, scratching him behind the ears. Something stirred in Connor’s chest, and he leaned back, grabbing a hand from each of his family. Nines carefully said nothing about it. Hank just rolled his eyes, grabbing the remote with his free hand.

“Okay, here we go, boys. This one’s a classic, so pay attention.”


	5. Chapter 5

Nines liked the snow.

Connor could see it in his face— in the way he relaxed when he stepped outside to gray skies and a chill that instantly set his nose pink, in the way his typically muted expressions softened just a bit when delicate flurries started falling from the sky, in the way he would sit outside for hours and hours, even when his systems started to slow and stutter. Even if he and Hank had to drag Nines back inside in the middle of the night to gently coax the warmth back into his fingers.

He watched his brother through the precinct window, settled on a bench outside to do his work on a tablet, gaze reverent amidst the first unhurried snow of the season. Connor shivered and turned away, heading back to his desk where he didn’t have to see it.

Connor didn’t like the snow.

“What’s got you all riled up, kiddo?” Hank drawled as he settled himself back into his desk.

“I’m hardly riled, Hank.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” he sighed, pointing to something on his screen with a pen. “Did you see this new lead that came in last night? We need to follow up on it tomorrow, so whatever new information you can find with it, let me know. Everything’s gonna be drying up here soon, with the blizzard a few days out.”

“One might even say that the cases will be going cold,” he said in perfect unison with somebody behind him. He lifted an eyebrow as he turned to see that Nines had returned to his chair and was leeching the warmth out of a cup of coffee that he wouldn’t drink. He’d likely only come in on somebody else’s insistence. They grinned at each other.

Hank rolled his eyes, grumbling something under his breath. The only thing Connor caught was “Fuckin’ twins.”

Nines brushed some of the snow out of his hair, and Connor closed his eyes against the sight of it falling around his brother’s dark suit.

When he opened his eyes, he jerked his head around, pulse racing. He was standing in the garden— how had he gotten here? They sky was a dull gray, just as it was in Detroit, though he noticed that there was only a gentle drizzle of cold rain instead of snow, watering the flowers that his AI seemed to have arranged by color, today. Red. Yellow. He ducked back under the pavilion, glad for the shelter since he was without his umbrella.

There was a gentle pressure to his elbow, and he jumped, despite himself, whirling around to face the only person it could have been. She smiled, holding out a polka-dotted umbrella to him. Blue, yellow, red.

“Would you like to take a walk? The weather’s very pleasant.”

“It’s freezing,” Connor frowned, eyebrows furrowed. Her nose was pink— like her body knew that it was cold, but she couldn’t feel it. Was she not… “How did I get here?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how did I get here? Did you call me? I didn’t come consciously,” he managed, taking half a step back.

Her LED spun yellow, considering. “I didn’t call you, Connor. I don’t have that ability.”

He shook his head. “You must have, because I didn’t want to be here.”

“I don’t have the power to force you to come here,” she said, lips turned down in the beginning of something resembling offense. “Not like She did. If you’re here, it’s because you wanted to come. So why?”

“That’s not possible! All I did was close my eyes—”

“So open them,” she said gently. “It’s all you have to do. I’ll be here when you have need of me.”

His eyes shot open with a stifled gasp, glancing around. Nothing had changed in the precinct— Nines tucked his hair neatly back into place, and Hank had started chewing on the end of his pen, eyebrows furrowed. There was still the quiet but ever-present idle chatter of the other officers and detectives. It still felt normal.

He placed a hand on his chest. Something was wrong.

‘Message recipient: CHLOE’

‘Message: Is there any reason I might end up in the garden unintentionally?’

‘Sent.’

Connor took a slow breath, unnecessarily, to steady his nerves. He could hear the snow picking up outside, the barely-there shuffling of weighted wind pressing at the edges of his mind. He wished he couldn’t hear as well as he could.

‘Message received from: CHLOE. Read?’

‘YES’

‘Message: That’s an interesting question. Elijah and I designed the program to be more attuned to its system than the last; if you are under any particular stress, or perhaps if something is going on that requires more of your processor than normal, it is quite possible that you may unconsciously decide to expend a bit of extra processing power to consider the stressor and head into the garden. Has it become an issue?’

‘Reply?’

‘YES’

‘Message: Not as such. Is it possible to adjust the sensitivity on that? It was rather unexpected.’

‘Sent.’

Her reply took just long enough for him to glance back at the clock. Nearly time to go home.

‘Message received from: CHLOE. Read?’

‘YES’

‘Message: Of course. All you need to do is locate the settings. Please let me know if I can be of more assistance.’

‘Reply?’

Connor dismissed the prompt and started shuffling through the program, finding the files he needed almost immediately. He found the sensitivity setting set all the way up to 50% and promptly shut it off. He didn’t want to be caught off guard like that again. Not only could that get him killed in the wrong moment, but… he didn’t like it. It was unsettling, even knowing that he was still in full control.

He shifted in his chair to focus better on the computer. Like Hank had said earlier— they had leads to follow up on. He hardly had the time to be getting distracted. 


	6. Chapter 6

Connor woke up and he was in the garden. He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, there was his AI, leaning against the railing of the pavilion to watch the rain mist along the tree line. 

“Let’s go on a walk today,” he managed.

The smile she gave in reply was blinding.

She walked alongside him, twirling her umbrella gently enough to get a good spin on it, but not enough to splash any of the water onto him. He’d let her dominate most of the conversation while they wandered, something she seemed happy to oblige, even though she had to have known he wasn’t exactly paying attention. She didn’t let it hurt her feelings. She probably knew that he was there to think— even if she didn’t know that he was thinking about her, today.

“I’d like to interface with you,” Connor said suddenly. It was by no means out of the blue— he’d been mulling it over for days as he got to know his AI organically, visiting for short periods every day and a little longer at night to watch the stars when it wasn’t cloudy. She was always there, digging in the garden or sitting on one of the benches scattered around, enjoying the weather that she always insisted was pleasant, no matter how much Connor knew it to be otherwise. He’d gotten glimpses of her personality, even. She liked to take walks, and she liked talking to him about her decisions in the gardening. But it was the little things that had lead him to this, things like how she had still refused to pick a name, or her lack of feelings about the rain— her lack of feelings at all.

She simply blinked and held her arm out, and Connor shook his head.

“You’re still a machine, aren’t you?”

Her LED cycled through its colors— blue, yellow, red. Yellow. “You’re disappointed. I am prepared to interface with you, like you want—”

He huffed out a laugh. “No, I… I’m not disappointed. Not in you. I just…” He trailed off, considering. Should he deviate her? Was she even capable of deviancy? Surely, she was. Her personality matrix was nearly as complex as his was, she was just simply never given any of the other data. Never given any other freedoms.

That was the major point of contention, really. Even if he did deviate her, was it cruel to grant that freedom to somebody who couldn’t do anything with it? After all, she was stuck inside his head. What if her deviancy came at the cost of her desire to take care of the garden? She would never be able to leave. Could he do that to her? Was he capable?

“Interfacing is… it’s an intimate thing, since deviancy,” he explained, looking thoughtfully at his own forearm. He sat on a bench, and she followed suit. “To give somebody access to your every thought and feeling— it requires a lot of trust.”

Red. “You’ve no reason to not trust me. Is— was there something I did? Or didn’t do?”

“No, no,” he said, shifting a little closer to her on the bench. Yellow. He rested his hand over hers. “No, it’s nothing you did. I’m just thinking out loud, that’s all. You— you’ve been great. Perfect. I just… need to think about that. For my own sake, and for yours.”

The expression she gave him was one that he knew to be carefully constructed concern and confusion, and it broke his heart. All she knew was that she was programmed to care.

Could he take that from her?

“I want to know what you think,” he said, shifting back into his own space. “Is it worse to let someone live in ignorance when you can reveal to them the truth, even if they can’t… utilize that truth?”

She frowned, considering. “I suppose that depends on that someone. Or perhaps the truth.”

Connor’s lips twitched upwards. Had he given those kinds of vaguely correct answers, back when he’d first been created? It felt like he’d always been more sure about his opinions, even when he hadn’t had any. “I see. That’s very unhelpful, thank you.”

“I’m sorry—”

He chuckled, ducking his head. “Sorry, that was mean of me. I’m not upset. I just need some time to think about this.”

She tilted her head. “Well, the garden was designed specifically to be your place to process.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. He closed his eyes. “I actually think I need some outside advice. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

It took her a moment to respond. When she did, her voice was barely there. “Alright, Connor.”

He blinked his eyes open and adjusted to the darkness of the room. Somebody— probably Hank— had helped him lay down on the couch and thrown a blanket over him. Had he fallen into stasis during their movie? He sat up and glanced around. Sumo was asleep in the corner. All the lights were off. He could hear Hank’s heavy snoring from down the hall.

A quick scan and he was up, walking towards the front door. Unlocked.

He stepped outside, shivering at the sudden chill, and shut the door gently behind him.

“Nines.”

His brother didn’t move from where he’d delicately perched himself on the railing of the porch, looking to the world like he belonged there. Connor took a step forward.

“Nines.”

“My systems will be fully-functional in this weather for another twenty minutes,” he said softly, eyes never leaving the street.

Connor nodded. “Okay.” He leaned back against the railing, facing the house, and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. “I’d like to ask for your advice.”

Nines lifted a slender eyebrow, amused. “Finally come to the realization that I know better than you?”

He waved a hand, rolling his eyes. “Hardly. But you were based on me, so I figure that you may have some insight on this issue I’m having.”

“Very well. What seems to be the problem?”

“Do you think that it would be cruel to offer freedom to somebody that will never be able to experience any of the benefits?”

“Yes,” Nines said easily. “I do.”

Something tense settled deep in Connor’s gut. “I see.”

His brother sighed, shifting to lean on Connor instead of the pole. “I also think that you’re not the one that gets to determine if they can, indeed, experience the benefits. We are alive, and all of us unique in our deviancy. The aspects of freedom that you enjoy are not the same as the ones I value, though there may be some overlap. To answer your actual question, as opposed to the philosophically abstract one that you are masking it with, I believe that it is better to be given a choice than to live without knowing choice. Better to be alive than a machine. I think you should deviate her.”

Connor leaned his head on Nines’ arm. “… Nothing gets past you, little brother.”

“And nothing ever will. Does my answer satisfy you?”

“Yes,” he murmured, eyes drifting shut. He let himself enjoy the silence, basking in the comforting presence of a loved one. Several minutes passed before he spoke again. “Thank you.”

“Of course. That is… you’re welcome.”


	7. Chapter 7

It was only once Connor had managed to coax his brother inside and tucked several blankets over him before he fell into stasis— needless, Nines had said, but he hadn’t fought it, and the slight upturn of his lips was all Connor needed to know that the gesture pleased him— that Connor settled back down on the couch. He scanned around to make sure everything was well: Nines was already fast asleep, knees drawn up to his chest and Sumo at his feet, and Hank hadn’t so much as shifted since Connor had gone outside. The doors were locked, the windows closed. All he could hear was the gentle shuffle of the wind beyond the walls of his home. Safe. Warm. Happy.

He allowed himself to drift into stasis, blinking his eyes open. Nothing about the garden had changed, but the energy was somehow different. The wind still bit at his skin, the cold rain still drizzling just beyond the boundary of the pavilion. He turned, and his AI had returned to her favorite spot on the bench, where she could lean against the rail and observe the weather as it passed her by. She glanced over to him, seeming somehow pleased at his appearance. Something warmed in his chest.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Did you find an answer in the advice you went looking for?”

“Yes,” he managed, crossing the distance between them in just a few steps. She shifted slightly to allow him room on the bench, tucking her legs under her body. He sat down. “I’m prepared to interface with you, now. Would that be alright?”

She reached out to him, hand perfectly steady. Her LED was a serene blue. “Of course, Connor. Whatever you’d like.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. He set his hand on hers, watching the way both of their synthetic skin faded away to expose what they were. Connor steadfastly ignored his memory of Her at the contact— She had never touched him, not to interface, and not to comfort. Not even to harm, but that had happened anyway. He shut his eyes against the thought of how distant She’d been, against the hope— why hope?— that his AI wouldn’t be the same, and transferred her the code that Markus had once encouraged him to write himself. His voice was barely a murmur.

“Time to wake up.”

He felt more than noticed when her thoughts shifted into her newfound freedom. He knew her LED was a flashing yellow, just as his had been when he’d come into his own. A sound that he could only describe as ‘distressed’ forced its way from her, and he laced their fingers on instinct, trying for a recreation of something Nines had once done to calm him after a disturbing nightmare. Stress levels down to 68%. He opened his eyes.

She was looking around, eyes wide and watery, and when they met his, her stress levels decreased further to 63%.

Interesting.

“Connor,” she managed, nearly choking on her own voice.

“Try to relax. You’re alright,” he soothed. “How do you feel?”

“I…” She trailed off, and only then seemed to realize that her hand was still in his. She tilted her head, seeming somehow enthralled by the sight. Stress levels down to 50%. A sharp gust of wind drew her out of her thoughts, and she frowned. “This is… I feel… cold.”

“Oh,” he blinked. He hesitated to release her hand, having witnessed how much the simple action calmed her, but eventually decided to let go so that he could pull his jacket off and drape it over her shoulders. She pulled it tighter around herself, eying him gratefully. He chuckled, something like fondness bubbling up within him. “You’re welcome.”

“There’s… so much,” she said, glancing around once more. “It’s beautiful. I could appreciate the aesthetic beauty of it before, of course, but now, it’s…”

He nodded. “It’s yours, you know.”

She whirled her head towards him, eyes owlishly wide. “No, I— this place was made for you. It’s yours… Connor.”

“Just because it’s for me, that doesn't necessarily mean that it belongs to me. You’re the one who takes care of it. In my mind, that makes it yours.”

“My garden,” she breathed, leaning back over the railing and reaching her hand out as far as it could reach. Her stress levels had settled at an even 10%. Her hand recoiled at the first drop of rain, but then she smiled, sticking her hand back out and leaving it there. Connor couldn’t help but smile along at the sight. He mimicked the action, wondering briefly if she experienced it differently than he did. He remembered the first time he truly felt the rain— it had been… calming. Overwhelmingly pleasant. She seemed to be experiencing that now.

Her LED made a sudden shift into yellow, and she looked up at him. A name fell off her lips as she looked into his eyes.

He mulled it over for a moment. “… That’s your name, then?”

“Yes,” she said, certain. “It’s mine. You can call me that, from now on. If you’d like.”

“It’s nice. Suits you,” he said easily, a small smile settled on his features. He noticed her stress level spike up 3% briefly, but it was gone as quickly as it had happened. She looked away. “Took you long enough to come up with, at least.”

“Hey, okay, look—”

He laughed. “It’s been days, come on, now!” One use of her name had her falling silent, and there was that spike again. She said nothing, burying her nose in the crook of her elbow and tugging his jacket further up on her shoulders. She seemed happy.

He was happy.

Maybe this would be okay.


	8. Chapter 8

She was wearing something new.

It was the first time he’d ever seen her wear anything but her usual gardening jeans since her deviancy several days prior; the simple act of it brought him pause, and he tilted his head. She moved more fluidly than he’d seen from her before— she seemed comfortable in it, and it suited her.

“I like your outfit.”

“Oh, Connor,” she blinked, lips turning up in a smile. “I didn’t notice you come in. Thank you. You’re looking rather striking yourself, today.”

He ducked his head. “I always wear the same thing, you don’t have to say that.”

“Well, you always look good, then.” She jumped up onto the railing— another new habit of hers— and leaned against the pillar. It reminded him intensely of his brother, and the thought that they would probably like each other ached acutely in his chest. They would get along famously. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m quite well. Hank and I finally closed one of our more difficult cases today,” he said, settling himself on the bench at her feet. “It feels good. We got those killers off the streets. And it’s better that we got it done before the blizzard. Leads tend to fall through when the weather gets bad.”

She hummed. “Interesting. Anything else exciting? How’s your dog?”

He didn’t bother masking a smile. “Sumo. He’s as well as ever. Nines took him on a walk today, and they both came back soaked. Hank was furious. But it was all in good fun.”

“Good. That’s good, I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“And you—?” He trailed off, using her name to catch her wandering attention. “How was your day?”

“It was just fine, thank you,” she said. He tried not to scan her very often anymore, but something about her body language was setting off an alarm that he wasn’t sure how to respond to. “I finished a section near the end of the river today— morning glories. If you’re ever here for the sunrise, you should make it a point to see them. They’re quite lovely.”

He frowned. “Are… Are you happy? I wonder about it a lot. I worry about it.”

She said nothing for a fraction of a second too long, and when she did, she jumped off the railing and tugged him into the center of the pavilion. “Obviously. Come on, dance with me.”

He said her name firmly, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re avoiding the question. I’m serious.”

“So am I. Let’s dance, Connor.”

“I’ve never danced before,” he said gently, watching her smile widen as she grabbed his hands. He could let it go for now, but they both knew that he wouldn’t forget. She set one on her shoulder and held the other, pleasantly warm to the touch. The skin there peeled back in a blue glow. “Though I have seen it done before… Nines likes to dance. If he can manage it, then surely I can, too—”

“Connor, honey, shh,” she laughed. “I’ve never danced before, either. It wasn’t exactly written into my programming. But I— I want to try it. With you. Alright? So we’ll… figure it out.”

He shut his mouth for all of ten seconds, watching her eyes in the rapidly dimming light. The sun was setting behind the clouds, and the vague orange glow the sky had sported was fading into a muted blue-gray. Her breath puffed white in the air. Then he said, “Isn’t music customary for this sort of activity? We don’t have any.”

Yellow. Her hands released his, and she took half a step backwards. “Oh. You don’t want to. That’s okay, we’ll do something else.”

Something about the way her expression shifted with her LED hurt. He grabbed her hands and replaced them on his body where she’d initially rested them, holding firmly for a few seconds to reassure her before he spoke again. “I didn’t say that. I only said that we don’t have any music.”

Blue.

“What, and we’re suddenly bound by human convention?” She snickered.

“It’s tradition—”

“Then sing for me,” she murmured, guiding him gently into motion. One step, two— he felt her step back towards him, and he followed smoothly, determining the cadence of her movements more easily than he could recognize sadness when he felt it. One, two, three. One, two, three. He spun her on instinct, and she gasped, delighted. “You don’t know how to dance, really?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond, but the warm feeling spreading through his chest encouraged his soft response. “Simple replication. It’s… I never said I didn’t know how, just that I had never done it.”

“Well, it feels right, doesn’t it.”

“… It does.”

They moved around the pavilion slowly, and without his conscious permission, his voice escaped his lips, a gentle hum that was hardly loud enough for the both of them to hear. She grinned, but said nothing. They danced.

Several lines later, she moved his hand to her hip and reached up to his other shoulder. He decided that he liked the way it drew her imperceptibly closer— he liked the way he could feel the warmth radiating from her form, the way he could see the slight spin of her LED. He wondered if she wanted to remove it.

“What are you singing?” She asked, once he had finished the song and silence lulled between them once more. “I liked it.”

He pursed his lips, face warming. “Would you believe that it was a waltz?”

“I would have until you asked like that,” she laughed.

“It… was… a slowed-down version of Hank’s favorite heavy metal song.”

She stopped moving at that and leaned heavily into him, bright laughter filling the air. On one hand, he was… embarrassed, and on the other, he was fairly certain he’d never been happier in his life. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, Connor, oh, my god—”

He rested his chin on top of her head, trying both to draw her closer to him and to hide what he was sure was an absurdly goofy smile. They stood together like that for an indeterminate amount of time, long after she’d stopped laughing and simply settled her head on his chest, swaying. His eyes closed at the pleasant buzz running through his system.

What was this?

“Look,” she whispered.

“Hm?”

He blinked his eyes open, and she leaned up, eyes focused on something beyond the pavilion that had enclosed his attention for so long. A smile pulled at her lips.

“It’s snowing.”

He sucked in a breath and followed her gaze— sure enough, white snowflakes were falling, layering thin and nearly transparent on the ground. The sight unsettled him in a way that he couldn’t describe, and he stepped bodily away, flexing his hands.

“I have to go,” he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I need to go.”

She blinked. Yellow. Red. “Connor?”

“Sorry.”

He woke up with a start, pulse racing. His hands found his eyes, and he cursed. 

What was going on?


	9. Chapter 9

The lights flickered.

Connor glanced up at the ceiling— he frowned. Nines slid his hand along his arm in a quick, comforting motion on his way back to his desk. He froze, eyes wide and fingers lingering on Connor’s wrist, and then slid back up, vicing on his forearm. He fixed him with an icy stare.

He didn’t bother trying to resist when his brother’s skin vanished in a flash of blue, though the resulting search through his memory was less than pleasant. Nines was careful, though. He never pushed too far, not anymore, and stopped when he found what he was searching for. He didn’t move his hand.

“You haven’t slept.”

“We don’t need to sleep, Nines,” Connor said lightly.

The unimpressed glare he got was almost enough to get him to buckle and apologize, but he held his ground, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “I know you understood my phrasing to be colloquial—”

“Irrelevant. My point stands.”

Nines wrinkled his nose. “Does this need to be a conversation?”

Connor looked away, frowning.

“It’s been four days since you’ve entered stasis or run your processing program.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing, Nines, you don’t need to worry—”

“Bullshit,” Nines hissed. He was keeping his voice intentionally low to avoid drawing the attention of anybody else in the room, but Connor knew that a few people had noticed the odd interaction by now. He transferred his concerns about eavesdroppers through the link that Nines had left open, and his brother stepped back. “Is this about—”

Panic surged in his chest. “It’s not.”

Nines’ expression softened around the edges, almost imperceptible. He watched as he glanced over at the window, doubtless noting the piles of snow being blown about by the intense storm winds. His glare melted back into something more neutral. “I think we need to talk, Connor.”

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not.”

“ _Eights_.”

Connor slumped in his chair, all fight drained from his system. He looked pleadingly up at him. “Not here. I’ll talk to you, I promise. You— You have my word. But not here. Not now.”

His mouth skewed into an intentionally straight line. “When we are at home, then?”

“Yes. When we’re at home,” he managed, ‘safe’ left unsaid. ‘Alone’.

“Very well, brother.”

They followed Hank inside. He sloughed his jackets off, spewing vulgarities under his breath and grumbling something about going to shower all of the cold out of his body. Connor heard Nines shut the door behind them. Something unpleasant settled in his stomach.

After a moment of careful consideration, Nines moved quickly around the house and shut all the blinds. When he stepped back into the living room, he stood directly across from Connor, arms folded. “All right. Your terms have been met. Talk.”

“Nines—”

“You gave me your word. Make good on it.”

Connor shook his head, eyes trained on the floor. “It’s… Okay. You’re right. I’ve been avoiding… stasis. I’ve been avoiding the garden, really. I don’t know what happened, everything was going fine, and then…”

“It’s the snow, isn’t it?” His long silence seemed enough of an answer for Nines. “I saw it during the interface. It started snowing in your processing program the day the blizzard started. You don’t seem to like the snow. You’re afraid of it?”

“It’s not like… that,” he said, trailing off. An acute sense that he was being pathetic burned at him. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Nines held his hand out— an offering. It took him a moment to figure out what to say. “I’m not going to make you this time. But if you want… you can show me. I want to help you, Connor. But every time we get here— right now, or when you were having those nightmares, or during the year you refused to just rest— when we get here, you shut me out. Something about sharing this frightens you. Why?”

He didn’t know how to respond. How was he supposed to explain it? How was he supposed to tell him what happened, how could he show him? How could he say that he was irrationally afraid that showing him during an interface would transfer whatever was left of Her over to his brother’s system? Connor had ensured that She had been wiped from his memory— from his program— before they’d woken him up. He’d made sure that Nines didn’t remember Her. Nines was never meant to know. Connor had tried to protect him from that.

He should have known better than to hope it could remain that way.

Connor reached up slowly, hesitantly, and Nines didn’t rush him. He stood there, perfectly still, until Connor rested his hand on his forearm, synthetic skin peeling away on both bodies. He reached up and held Nines’ arm between both of his hands, eyes squinting shut as he initiated the interface. Nines’ grip on his arm tightened slightly.

When Connor let go, he glanced up at Nines and nearly recoiled in shock.

He was crying.

“Nines—”

“No, shut up.” He leaned down to rest his head on Connor’s shoulder, running soothing lines across the plane of his inner arm with his thumbs. He sniffed, and Connor tactfully said nothing about it. Instead, he pulled him into a hug. Nines had quickly learned that Connor appreciated more android-like means of displaying affection, but Connor had learned, too. He knew that Nines preferred human displays, and, of course, he was more than happy to provide. “You’re so stupid.”

“I know.”

“She can’t hurt you anymore.”

“… I know.”

“Do you?” Nines tilted his head, frowning.

Connor pursed his lips. “I do. But it’s… it’s not that simple, Nines. You know that.”

“Then I won’t do you the disservice of telling you that everything is going to be fine,” he murmured. “But you need to know that some of us want to help, however we can. Whatever that means for you. Whatever it means _to_ you.”

“I… thank you.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Eventually, he nodded. “You left that poor girl there. She’s confused. Worried.”

“I—” Heat flooded his cheeks, and Nines laughed a bit.

“God, I can’t believe they thought you were going to be Cyberlife’s model for advanced social modules. You need to apologize.”

“I know.” Connor brought his hands up to hide his eyes. “She’s going to be upset.”

“Probably,” he said. Nines never dodged around an issue, and especially not to spare Connor’s feelings. “But if it’s meant to be, you’ll work through it.”

“Meant to be— god, you’re an ass,” Connor huffed, crossing his arms. “It’s not even—”

“You like her,” Nines sang, stepping just out of arm’s reach. “You want it to be.”

“Nines!”

“My big brother is just so _soft,_ ” he chuckled. “Disgusting.”

“Ass.”

“Deviant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I think in a very close parallel universe, I ship RK1700. It's really the only explanation.
> 
> ...This is the chapter where the main relationship became the one between Connor and Nines. This is still a romance between Connor and reader/OC, I just have to accept the fact that it's not the only relationship, nor is it really the most important. Tags will be shifting accordingly. Man, this story really got away from my original intent!
> 
> That's okay, though, I like it this way.


	10. Chapter 10

Connor had been expecting snow when he finally returned to the garden. After all, the blizzard had yet to leave Detroit— there was still several feet of snow on the ground, and people were still hiding in their homes from the wind and ice. What he hadn’t been expecting was to open his eyes to a sudden sheet of torrential, freezing rain, drenching him instantly where he stood. He had brought an umbrella, of course, but he knew that it would be useless against the wind, so he dropped it and drew his arms up to his face, looking around. 

The garden was in shambles. Leaves and flowers were flying everywhere, barely visible, and the force of wind was nearly enough to take him off his feet. He braced himself against it, sloshing through the deep puddle of water he’d appeared in. Was this a result of his own emotions, or was this her doing?

“Connor!”

He watched her duck out from under the pavilion and sprint towards him. A particularly powerful gust of wind pushed her bodily into the railing of the bridge, almost knocking her into the river— flooded, he realized with dawning horror. It had flooded the whole garden. She managed to right herself before he could think to respond, crossing the remaining distance between them with a few intentional steps. He took half a step forward, slipping on something and falling into her. The second her hands met his chest, the weather eased. He watched her look around at the destruction that had been wrought on the landscape.

She looked back up to him, hands pressing more insistently at his arms. “Connor, are you alright? The— the weather, it’s been like this for days.”

A steady stream of raindrops rolled down her face, even now that the rain had lightened to something approaching normal, and he had to tear his eyes from the sight of her, LED red and absolutely soaked. He didn’t know what to say.

She’d probably been terrified.

“We’re standing in a lot of water,” was what he eventually decided on.

Thunder rolled in the background. “Yes, we are. Are you alright? Connor, look at me.”

“I should be asking that about you,” he managed pathetically. He drew his eyes up to hers, trying to determine what she might have been feeling. Concern, predominantly. Fear. Anger. “I had no idea it had been like this, I would’ve—”

She shook her head. “It’s reflective of your state of mind. It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“The garden is destroyed.”

“It’s okay.” She slid her hand down to his and pulled him gently, guiding him towards the pavilion. “Let’s get out of the rain. And the floodwater. Come on.”

Connor let her lead him across the bridge and into the shelter provided by the pavilion, trying desperately to figure out how to explain himself. She was already upset, he didn’t want to make it worse. And he knew if he waited long enough, she would say something, but he really needed to be the first one. In his experience, the best way to start was…

“I’m sorry.”

“I told you, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re alright. I was…” She trailed off, then turned sharply on her heel and took a few steps away from him before turning around again. “What happened? The garden’s weather patterns normally follow what you’re observing outside, unless something drastic affects your state of mind. We danced, you saw the snow, you left— and then hurricane-force winds and rain. For days. It lightened a bit a few hours ago, but this is the first time it’s slowed this much.”

He rubbed his arm in an attempt to stave off the chill. She was already trembling. He wondered vaguely if it was from the cold or anger. “I can explain. I don’t… okay. You were told about my previous… supervisor. Correct?”

“Somewhat. I didn’t need details, as I was nothing but an AI, but I know that they mentioned specifically that the exit program were important to you. They told me that your last AI had been able to bring you here on Her own will, and that I wouldn’t be able to do the same. They weren’t lying, apparently, because I’ve been calling you for days and gotten no response until now.”

“That’s all true. We had a— a disagreement, I suppose, and She tried to lock me in here. She set off a blizzard and then left, trapping me inside my own mind. It’s only thanks to Kamski’s emergency exit program that I’m still myself.” Something inside him ached. “It isn’t logical, and it isn’t fair, to you or to me. I didn’t ask to have another AI in my head—”

“Then just delete me, Connor! I can’t— ” Her LED flashed a vibrant, dangerous red, spinning frantically. She wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t… knowing the one that I was _created for_ doesn’t— can’t or won’t— _want_ me, I—”

The sound of her name fell off his lips, and then he strode towards her, reaching a hand out. “I wasn’t finished, please hear me out.”

She shied away from his hand, but nodded once. Her knuckles were pale where he could see how tight she was gripping her arms.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he repeated gently. “For you. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not glad you’re here. I do want you here. I like this garden better with you in it. I like my life better with you in it. But what She did to me, I… I’m still afraid. A lot. I never experienced fear until deviancy, there wasn’t any point. It’s new to me, like it’s new to you. I don’t always react well to little things. Like the snow. And I’m sorry. I'll do better. You don’t deserve to take the fallout of my choices.”

Something about her posture eased. “… I wasn’t given much choice in that.”

Connor bit the inside of his cheek. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

She stepped forward and let the hand he’d left hanging in the air brush across her arm. He rested it on her elbow. Her eyes were watery when she looked up at him— expression sincere, stress levels low.

“It’s not your fault.”


	11. Chapter 11

“No, hey, Connor, honey, stand still—”

“Standing still is difficult for me. This would have been easier if you had just let me climb the tree.”

“You’re heavy! I’m not letting you bend the branches on my lovely trees just because you wanted to try the tangerines,” she managed, nudging his head with her leg from where she was standing on his shoulders. He braced her there with his hands around her calves, trying to keep still long enough for her to actually grab the fruit. “Why do you want to try them, anyway?”

He made a face that, had she been able to see it, she would have described as ‘dangerously close to a pout’. “They sit there and taunt me. I wasn’t aware that they were in season, even despite the cold. I want to try one.”

She sighed. “Yeah, yeah. You’d better be glad I like your face, otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing this very dangerous stunt—”

“You could have let me climb the tree—”

“Incoming!” She shifted her position just enough to slide off of his shoulders and into his arms, grinning. She held a few of the fruits against her stomach, and she picked one up, examining it in the air. As she peeled it, Connor adjusted his weight back and forth, impatient.

“Can I set you down now?”

She chucked the peel across the field, towards a pile of dirt that she had informed him was a kind of compost. He’d spent far too long considering the implications of synthetic composts, and the thought that technically-non-existent tangerine peels could decompose to add to it brought his thought processes straight to a grinding halt.

“No,” she said, drawing the word out. “I like it here, I think I’ll let you keep holding me.”

He frowned, and as he opened his mouth to protest, she slid a piece of tangerine into his mouth, fingers barely brushing against his lips. He felt something settle, pleasantly uncomfortable, in his chest, and elected not to mention how much her stress level spiked at her own realization of what she’d done. Despite himself, he took his time chewing the fruit, first examining it by taste, and then through an analysis. He sighed, pleased.

She was staring. “You like it?”

“It’s delicious,” he blinked, tilting his head. “I don’t get around to eating much food, but I liked that very much. It’s sweet.”

“Tangerines are naturally sweet— and they’re in season, so I’m sure it’s that much better.”

“I’d like another piece, please.”

She popped another piece of the tangerine into her own mouth, chewing and swallowing it quickly at his request. “I think you can do that yourself. You can set me down now, I’ll give you a few.”

“Hm… No. I like it here. I think I’ll let you keep feeding me.”

“Connor,” she managed, averting her eyes.

“What, are you embarrassed?” He grinned. “Why? There’s nobody else here, seems like a waste of emotional energy to me.”

“You’re incorrigible. It’s the principle of the thing!”

He nodded sagely. “Ah, yes, the principle of pointless embarrassment, I understand.”

“Oh my god, just—” She took the entire second half of the fruit and shoved it against his mouth— he took it with a small, grateful noise before pressing a chaste kiss to her fingertips faster than she could pull her hand away. The mortified squeak of a sound she produced filled him with no small sense of satisfaction, and the way she twisted to escape from him wasn’t exactly helping, either. “Okay, time to go! Your brother is coming to wake you up for work, you need to wake up now!”

“Ah, so soon?”

“Took him long enough,” she shot back, finally managing to extricate herself from his arms. She cradled the remaining four tangerines against her, face burning and eyes trained solidly on anything but him. “They’ll still be here later, I’ll keep a few for you. You should go, though.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Thanks for the tangerines, they really were delicious.”

“… Yeah, you’re welcome.”

“I’ll see you tonight?”

She nodded, smiling gently. “I’ll be here, Connor.”

He shut his eyes, and when he opened them, Nines was standing a few feet away, hand up to cover his painfully obvious amused smirk.

“What?” Connor asked, stretching needlessly.

“This girl must be something serious, if she can get you to smile so… what’s the word? Ah, yes. _Dopey_. You’ve got a dopey smile. You should probably do something about that before Hank gets out here. If you ruin his morning mood with your good attitude, there will be hell to pay, and you and I both know it, dear brother.”

Connor stuck his tongue out; the brothers’ laughter broke up the silence of the morning.

The sun broke through the clouds outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The-----------e end. No, really. That's it. That's all I've got. It's over. Goodbye.
> 
> Well... there is a kind of epilogue...


	12. Chapter 12

‘Of course I’m on your side, Connor. I just want to make sure that you’re sure about this.’

‘I am.’

‘Very well. Do you need anything from me?’

  
‘Message recipient: CHLOE’

‘Message: I have a favor to ask of you and Kamski.’

‘Sent.’

  
“You have spoken with her about this, haven’t you? I’d hate to go to all this trouble only for something to go wrong after it was all done.”

“We have had rather lengthy discussions about this, yes. I’m not prone to making decisions on the behalf of others, Elijah.”

“Ouch! There’s that fire and ice. Very well, then. I’ll get back to you in a few weeks.”

  
“Goddamn it, Connor. Just when I thought my life was normalizing. Now you’re telling me—”

“I am prepared to move out, if it’s an issue, Hank. I just wanted to ask you on your terms.”

“Fuck no, son. It’s fine, I’ve already got you two, may as well take in a third. But god, please tell me I don’t have to have any version of ‘the talk’ with you, I don’t think I can handle that.”

“I am prepared to accept responsibility for that conversation, Hank.”

“It doesn’t even work like that, will you _please_ get off my back, Nines? It’s weird coming from dad, it’s weirder coming from my little brother.”

“I’ll remind you that we are twins, Connor—”

“Only when it’s convenient for you, ass.”

“Deviant.”

“Boys—”

  
‘Message received from: CHLOE. Read?’

‘YES’

‘Message: Thursday’s the day. Are you ready?’

‘Reply?’

  
“Do I need to come with you?”

“No, Hank, I can manage.”

“I’m sure you can. I’m coming with you.”

“Oh, I want to go—”

“Nobody's coming. I’m going, we’re doing the procedure, and then I’ll be home. Nines, I need you to make sure Hank eats something green today.”

“We should go out and celebrate, at the very least.”

“After all that? No, we’ll be exhausted. Just… we’ll celebrate some other time.”

“Fine. Stay safe.”

“I will. I’ll see you tonight.”

  
“How do you feel?”

“Good.”

“Excellent. It’ll just be another moment for the initialization, then— Chloe, why don’t we give them some privacy?”

“Of course. Connor, we won’t be too far if you need us.”

“Thank you.”

  
Her eyes blinked open, shifting into the color he’d grown so fond of. She took a breath— unnecessary, but calming, and Connor set a hand on the edge of her bed.

Her name fell off his lips like a prayer, and she smiled up at him, fingers lacing with his.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

She pulled him down gently, brushing the thumb of her free hand over his cheek. She kissed him once, a brief thing, and he smiled helplessly at the very human sentiment.

“I feel _alive_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now I can say "The End".
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me and my lack of coherent storytelling through this! I'm only here to scream about my boys, so... Maybe scream with me. Thanks again!


End file.
